Cassius looked around. The factory itself was brick-built and high roofed, with thin, arched windows. The only workers in view were gathered around a hoist which was obviously used to move the heavy sarchophagi on to and off carts. Eight vehicles were lined up neatly on one side of the yard.
‘So where does their stone come from?’
‘Most of it’s Proconeesan marble,’ said Molacus. ‘It’s shipped down to the port then brought here.’
‘Blocks of it?’
‘No, they shape the containers at the quarry before shipping. This place does the fine work; carving and so on – whatever the buyer has specified.’
‘Why do they need a forge?’
‘Some of the sarcophagi are given an interior lining, usually lead. They also use metal clamps to secure the lids. I believe this outfit manufacture their own.’
‘Do you know anything about where they go from here?’
‘Not specificially, but the marble is always popular with those that can afford it and it’s an extremely widespread trade.’
‘With a large potential market.’
‘The dead? In Syria? Certainly.’
The manager arrived; a well-dressed fellow sporting several silver rings. He greeted Molacus politely and introduced himself as Bathyllos.
‘Thank you for seeing me personally.’
‘Not at all,’ replied Bathyllos, without so much as a glance at Cassius. ‘Always happy to help the city. I understand you need to carry out some sort of check?’
‘We’ve had a few infractions regarding fire safety measures of late – I just need to ensure that you are keeping the risk to an absolute minimum. We have an excellent record in this area and my superiors are keen to maintain it.’
‘Of course.’
‘I will be checking all the other facilities in the area.’
Bathyllos smiled blandly. Cassius reckoned he didn’t appear notably more anxious than any factory manager would when facing a surprise visit from the authorities.
‘Where would you like to start?’
‘Wherever’s easiest for you,’ said Molacus.
‘Then follow me.’
Most of the building was taken up by one huge workshop where at least twenty artisans were gathered around sarcophagi mounted on sturdy wooden pallets. Many of the masons were working on the sides of the containers, which featured most of the artwork. Cassius could see why the marble was so popular; the handsome white stone was banded with grey and gleamed under the shafts of sunlight illuminating the factory. Using hammers and a remarkable variety of chisels, the men crafted the faces of gods, religious and solar symbols, and intricate garland and wreath designs. Cassius also noted that some were working from drawings and that most of the sarcophagi had names scrawled upon them in charcoal. The visitors attracted a few stares but again Cassius could deduce little from their reaction; there was certainly no sense of alarm.
Bathyllos showed them every corner of the workshop. Molacus made the odd comment and advised that all the window shutters be fully opened; the smell of an oil used to polish the marble hung heavily in the air.
The rear of the warehouse was accessed via a broad, high doorway. To the right was a storage area which opened out on to the yard beside the hoist. There were dozens of finished sarcophagi laid out in rows and Cassius spotted paperwork listing destinations as far afield as Bostra, Zeugma and Circesium, which was almost in Persia.
While Bathyllos and Molacus paused to discuss industrial accidents, he glanced down at the nearest coffin. It was lying open, with the lid propped against the side. Considering the weight, no one would notice a few hundred or even thousand coins stashed inside. Even better, an illicit cargo could be removed before reaching the eventual destination without the purchaser even knowing. As a cover, it was absolutely perfect; and yet he had seen nothing to indicate anything other than a well-run, legitimate business.
Bathyllos took them through a small office where a trio of clerks were at work, then to the rear left corner of the warehouse. This area was partitioned by an interior wall and contained the forge. A large oven was burning bright below a broad chimney and giving off a wave of heat that struck the moment they entered. The forge was also equipped with two broad anvils, clay moulds for the locking clamps and a stack of lead sheeting. The only two workers present were poring over a single sheet of lead, taking measurements with callipers and marking them with chalk.
Molacus pronounced himself unhappy with the proximity of some firewood to the oven and instructed Cassius to make a note. Bathyllos agreed to make the change at once; and looked on while Molacus swiftly surveyed the rest of the forge. The inspector knelt briefly to attend to an errant shoelace then straightened up and gave a formal nod to Bathyllos.
‘Well, the small issue of firewood aside, everything seems to be in order. If you could make sure that it’s attended to by the end of the week …’
‘Of course,’ said Bathyllos smoothly. ‘Would you like to check outside also?’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ replied Molacus. ‘Exteriors are another inspector’s responsibility and I have several more premises on my list for this morning.’
‘Allow me to show you out.’
The manager took them back into the storage area then through a rear gate and around the side of the warehouse they hadn’t seen. Here were more blocks of stone and a rubbish pit where Cassius observed a complete lack of pale red amphora. They also passed a broad gate that led through to some stables. Bathyllos explained that this was part of the business and Molacus was pleased to see that such a fire risk had been sited well away from the forge.
As the two then moved on to small talk and the ‘disgraceful’ defacing of the Emperor’s statue, Cassius glumly considered his next move. Other than the suitablility of the sarchophagi for transportation, there was not a single reason to suspect the business was being used as a cover for counterfeiting. At least there were the two other factories to check.
Bathyllos escorted them as far as the gate and wished Molacus a good day. As they walked off, Cassius realised he’d gained a useful insight into the life of a lowly clerk. It was strange to be ignored; but he supposed that people of such status were simply accustomed to it.
‘Well done, you were most convicing,’ he told Molacus as they neared the sanctuary.
‘As was Bathyllos, though he must know about it, of course.’
Cassius stopped. ‘Know about what? You saw something?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Molacus. ‘Two things, to be precise. You didn’t notice the barrel just sitting there in the middle of the forge? I imagine it covers a trapdoor. A cellar is hardly a rarity, of course, but far more conclusive is the metal pipe behind the oven. I had to kneel down to get a good view – it comes from below and runs into the main chimney. For the counterfeiter’s forge, I presume. Rather ingenious.’
‘You mean … under the factory? It’s hidden below the floor?’
‘I can see no other logical explanation. Shall we get going? I suppose I must go through the charade of these other visits or we shall arouse suspicion.’
Molacus strode on towards the sanctuary. Cassius stood alone in the middle of the street, clutching the waxed tablet and staring back at the factory.
Diadromes leaned against the wall, listening as a flock of gulls wheeled and shrieked high above the tower. When Cassius had finished, the Syrian took another sip of wine then deposited his mug on the table.
‘Gods, I can hardly believe it.’
‘Neither did Molacus until he saw that pipe.’
‘So what now?’
Cassius sat down beside Indavara. ‘Clearly we need to find something conclusive but we’re running out of reasons to check the place.’